


be my, be my baby

by nclgbt



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining, University AU, also accidentally lowkey a cafe fic???, and they were ROOMMATES, as is customary, heaps of domesticity, oh my god they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nclgbt/pseuds/nclgbt
Summary: Of all the things that could have brought about Doyoung's Taeyong Revelation - his friends' incessant meddling, his own inability to keep his mouth shut around his best friend, the way his heart leaps to his throat every time Taeyong so much as looks at him - Doyoung didn't think a baby would be one of them.





	be my, be my baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [_helios (neocitz)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neocitz/gifts).



> Prompt: Accidental Baby Acquisition where A comes home to find their best friend, B, with the baby and they realise then and there that this is the life that they want for themselves in the future.
> 
> MERRY CHRISTMAS SAM!!! i really really hope you enjoy this fic, at least as much as i enjoyed writing it!
> 
> title from be my baby by the ronettes
> 
> on a related note, some important [background](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV5tgZlTEkQ) [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-SK6cvkK4c0)

It’s late, too late, when Doyoung finally makes his way back to the flat from the library. It was easy now, after six straight hours working on a beast of an essay, to see why Johnny had warned him when he enrolled in Dr Do’s composition class.

The essay had come out of nowhere. After weeks of practicals, of submitting songs, of performances, Doyoung was out of practice. Stringing words together verbally was something he was good at - all his teachers from preschool to university would say that it was a particular skill of his - but putting coherent sentences and arguments down on paper? It had been weeks since that had been expected of the vocal performance major.

But now, at almost midnight on an otherwise nondescript Wednesday night, the deadline looms over him like a bald, heart-shaped grinned spectre. Even after his stint in the library Doyoung is nowhere near finished. Though the library opening hours ran into the early morning, there was nothing worse than a packed library at 11PM, and all Doyoung wanted was to eat some Taeyong-cooked food and go to sleep.

The walk from the library to Doyoung and Taeyong’s apartment is short, but to Doyoung and his rumbling stomach it feels like a thousand-mile hike. When he finally gets to their apartment block, the gross yellow lighting is almost inviting.

It’s not as if their building is unpleasant, Doyoung muses as he stares unseeingly at his reflection in the elevator mirror as he’s elevated to the tenth floor. The elevator works, they’ve got consistent hot water and occasionally excellent water pressure. There’s a sliver of a balcony just big enough for Taeyong’s tomato plant and assorted herbs - a product of his weird and sudden obsession with gardening. The kitchen and bedrooms are small, but for a couple of university students it was a steal and a half with the low rent and comparatively short distance to campus.

The _ding_ of the elevator breaks Doyoung out of his revery, and he digs his keys out of his pocket as he walks down the corridor to their apartment. Their doormat stares up at him, as it does every day, a _Home Sweet Home_ to brush snow and dirt on. Taeyong had bought it a day after they moved in. Doyoung smiles down at his shoes as he pushes the door open.

“Johnny was right,” Doyoung says in lieu of greeting. There’s no response from the living room, where Taeyong’s often camps out late writing lesson plans, so Doyoung assumes he’s in his room playing Animal Crossing, too engrossed to answer though he always leaves his door open until he goes to sleep.

Stepping out of his shoes and dropping his backpack to the floor, Doyoung’s stomach growls at him - reminding him of the intense hunger that had grown from when he parked himself in one of the library’s butt-numbing chairs. He turns the corner, exiting the small entryway to enter the kitchen, intent on digging for some leftovers or ramen or, if he must, a slice of bread.

Rubbing his eyes of sleep, Doyoung calculates how many more godforsaken hours of reading will be necessary to finish his essay, and whether or not his conscience could handle it if he delegated some work to his favourite (and oh so eager) freshman mentee Minhyung as he walks straight into his flatmate’s narrow back.

Doyoung barely gets the first huffing syllable of a swear word out of his mouth before Taeyong rounds on him, hand clapping over the lower half of Doyoung’s face.

“What are you doing?” Doyoung asks but the words sound more like _mmfh moo dung?_ against Taeyong’s palm.

Taeyong gives Doyoung a wide-eyed glare as he glances down, and Doyoung follows his line of sight to his chest and there’s another head there and a body and limbs and-

“That’s a baby,” Doyoung says, when Taeyong finally removes his hand from his mouth.

“Yeah,” Taeyong replies. “I know.”

  
  


It goes like this:

Taeyong’s sister got married. Taeyong’s sister’s husband’s family moved to Japan. Taeyong’s sister had a baby. Just over a year later, Taeyong’s sister’s husband’s family had a house-related emergency that Taeyong’s sister’s husband simply _had_ to fly to Japan to attend to. Taeyong’s sister was roped in to help him, but Taeyong’s sister’s baby had just recovered from an ear infection so Taeyong’s sister and Taeyong’s sister’s husband decided that he probably shouldn’t fly with them to Japan. Taeyong’s parents left for their retirement cruise somewhere in Europe on an earlier date than was previously communicated to their children, so that left just Taeyong to take care of Taeyong’s sister’s baby - Taeyong’s nephew - Taehwan.

“And me,” Doyoung says, after Taeyong finishes his spiel on how he came to be clutching a thirteen-month old against his chest in their tiny kitchen at midnight on a Wednesday.

“What?” Taeyong whispers, a little out of breath from his speech. He leans forward a little, hand coming up to cup Taehwan’s tiny, tiny ear.

“And me,” Doyoung repeats. “You have me. To help with the, um, your nephew. It’s not just you that has to do everything.”

Taeyong looks at Doyoung for a moment, the emotions in his eyes flickering between incredulity and fondness, before he shakes his head.

“I know how much Do’s class is stressing you out. You’re a senior now, and my schedule is flexible, don’t worry about it. It’ll be like Taehwannie isn’t even here.”

Doyoung blinks at him. “But babies, like, they cry, right?”

Taeyong laughs, a quieter version of his usually big and always beautiful cackle. “Yes,” he says eventually. “I suppose they do. They’re sort of similar to college students in that way.”

“Then it won’t be like he isn’t here, if I can hear him. And it’ll be impossible for you to do everything. Sure, deadlines stress me out, but I don’t want _you_ stressed because you’re babysitting for…”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” Doyoung chokes out. That little detail had been omitted from Taeyong’s earlier tyrade. “The baby’s going to be here for two weeks?”

“ _Max_ ,” Taeyong says quickly. “My sister says she’ll probably be back sooner but if things aren’t sorted then it could be two weeks. Besides, my parents will definitely be back by then so they’ll take over if noona _really_ can’t make it.”

Doyoung lets this information sit for a moment as he stares down at the steaming bowl of rice and vegetables that Taeyong had heated up for him. It must be well past one in the morning by now, the two of them sitting next to each other on their sofa, and tiny Taehwan is fast asleep against his uncle’s shoulder, face kind of obscured from Doyoung’s view. Taeyong looks comfortable with the baby. Right, even. Taehwan isn’t big, maybe not even big for a one year old, but what does Doyoung know about babies? But he _does_ know that Taeyong’s hand covers the expanse of his nephew’s shoulders and the baby is snuggling into Taeyong’s neck and it’s so cute that Doyoung has to put his spoon down to cup his face with his hands.

“What?” Taeyong says, squinting at him.

_You look good with the baby_ , is what Doyoung wants to say.

“Nothing,” is what Doyoung says after a beat of not-quite-awkward silence. Taeyong smiles at him anyway.

“It’s getting late,” Taeyong hums, and Doyoung rolls his eyes at the understatement. He’s a self-proclaimed early sleeper, but Taeyong has always had the habit of lying awake in bed for hours before dozing off. “I’ve been given strict instructions about how and where Taehwan sleeps, and somehow noona will _know_ that I’ve kept him out of bed for this long so,” Taeyong shoots Doyoung a small smile, reaching a hand down to ruffle his already wind-ruffled hair. “Goodnight Doyoungie.”

“Goodnight, hyung,” Doyoung says. And then, to Taeyong’s retreating back and the small head tucked into his neck, “goodnight, Taehwannie.”

Doyoung sits on the sofa for a few minutes, his food getting colder with the ticks of the clock hanging above the TV. He shakes his head to clear it of muddled thoughts of babies and roommates, scarfs down what’s left of his meal, and retires to bed himself.

  
  


The next morning, Doyoung would have convinced himself that the sudden arrival of a second flatmate was an stress-induced dream were it not for Taehwan’s new role as Doyoung’s alarm clock. His shrieking cry pierces through the thin wall that separates the two bedrooms, and Doyoung can hear Taeyong frantically shushing him, noise travelling as Doyoung guesses that they’ve moved to the kitchen to get Taehwan some food.

Doyoung rolls out of bed - he’d never been good at going back to sleep once woken up, even when he was a child. He tugs on a pair of sweatpants and an old college-logo hoodie, saying a quick prayer that it was Saturday and that he’d have a whole day to lounge about and hopefully finish his Essay From Hell. When he steps into the kitchen, Taehwan’s cries have stopped, but he’s immediately met with Taeyong’s guilt-ridden face.

“I’m so sorry, Doyoungie,” he says. He’s bouncing a little, Taehwan tucked into his arm as he sucks greedily on a bottle, his little face as blissed-out as a baby’s could be.

“I told you, hyung, don’t worry about it,” Doyoung replies, ignoring the funny flip of his stomach as Taeyong flashes him a tired smile. Doyoung leans forward towards the baby, who has his eyes open now, trained on Doyoung.

Doyoung tells his face muscles to smile, but it’s like he’s forgotten how. “Good morning, Taehwan-ah,” he says, hands clasped behind his back. Taeyong lets out a burst of laughter, and Doyoung glares up at him irritably.

“He’s not a cat,” Taeyong says, still laughing. “Or a dog, for that matter. You don’t have to be scared of him, Doyoung.”

“I’m not scared of him,” Doyoung grouses. “And I’m not scared of animals, either!”

“Just awkward with them, then,” Taeyong nods. They’ve had this conversation before. Then, suddenly, “do you want to hold him?”

Doyoung’s gaze snaps to Taeyong, who’s gently taking the empty bottle from Taehwan’s hands. He whines a little but eventually settles back into the crook of Taeyong’s arm, wriggling. Doyoung can’t deny that the kid is cute, he’s got Taeyong’s eyes and ears too big for his baby-sized head, but the last time Doyoung held a child was probably when he was a child himself, a photo-op for cooing relatives.

“It’s easy,” Taeyong says, stepping towards him. He uses a free hand to direct Doyoung’s limbs to the right place, Doyoung standing there stiff as a mannequin, and suddenly he has nine kilos of one-year-old in the bend of his elbow. Taeyong steps back to assess his work, and shakes his head.

“That’s a little awkward,” he mutters, taking Taehwan from Doyoung and readjusting Doyoung’s arms to his liking.

Doyoung holds his breath. There’s a lot at stake here. It’s not as if he and Taeyong have never stood next to each other before - they’re close friends, it’s normal for close friends to be in each other’s personal space, tucked up against each other on the sofa, heads on shoulders, right? But Doyoung rarely has the pleasure of seeing Taeyong’s concentrated face this close, never daring to lean in when he’s working or cooking or gaming. His lower lip tucked between his teeth, strong brow furrowed in a way that Doyoung has to resist the urge to press his thumb against the middle, smooth out the crease.

The weight of Taehwan against his shoulder anchors Doyoung back to reality. Taeyong takes Doyoung’s wrists in the circle of his fingers, showing him how to support his back. When he’s satisfied, Taeyong steps back again, clapping his hands together as he coos.

“So cute!” he says, and Doyoung’s brain is stuck between embarrassment and pride. Taehwan lifts his head from Doyoung’s shoulder to stare silently at him, his hand making a little fist around the strings of Doyoung’s hoodie.

“He looks like you,” Doyoung says. He wants to turn to look at Taeyong but he’s kind of transfixed. The kid has ridiculously long eyelashes and a stare too intense for someone who’s been alive for less time than Doyoung’s been at college.

“I’m going to get my phone!” Taeyong says, ignoring Doyoung.

“You mean you’re not actually surgically attached to it?” Doyoung teases, as Taehwan slumps back down onto his shoulder, bringing his fist to his mouth. “Oh, that’s gross.”

“Taehwannie’s not _gross_ , Doyoung,” Taeyong says as he walks back into the kitchen. “He’s just - _no, Taehwan_.”

Taeyong is across the small space in an instant, gentle fingers plucking Taehwan’s entire fist (gross, but ultimately impressive) out of his mouth, along with the knotted ends of Doyoung’s hoodie strings (just gross). The kid babbles at him, as Taeyong cleans his hand with a wipe conjured out of nowhere, and he nods and hums along.

“There,” Taeyong says, when Taehwan is acceptably clean. “Sorry about that.”

“Stop apologising, hyung,” Doyoung says, when his voice returns to him. It had gone somewhere, sometime between Taeyong re-entering the room and his and Taehwan’s very serious conversation about eating hoodie strings. “It could be worse.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Taeyong says quickly. “When I first met the little guy he pooped _and_ threw up on me. At the same time. It would have been impressive if it weren’t so disgusting.”

“But look at you now, huh?” Taeyong continues, running a finger down the round, downy cheek of his nephew, who gazes up at him with a starry-eyed look that Doyoung knows all too well. “Pooping in your diaper and everything! I’m so proud of you.”

“This is a weird conversation,” Doyoung says. _Why does my heart feel like it’s making an escape from my chest cavity?_ , he wants to say.

Taeyong rolls his eyes at him and waves his phone in Doyoung’s face. “Just let me take a picture and send it to noona! Oh, she’s going to be so surprised. Doyoungie and Taehwannie - _yes_ , that’s you! - being friends and everything!”

Doyoung smiles widely for the camera when Taeyong tells him to, despite the strain he’s beginning to feel in his left arm. His stamina may be laughable, but babysitting is nothing to sneeze at, so maybe Jaehyun and Johnny shouldn’t feel so smug the next time they announce they’re going to the gym on social media. Just because Doyoung always declines their invitation, doesn’t mean he’s not getting any exercise. Carrying a one-year-old for five minutes is tough.

Doyoung feels another pair of eyes on him and he looks down to see Taehwan staring at him again, but this time he’s straining up, trying to get his face as close to Doyoung’s as he can. Doyoung smiles down at him, a little softer now that he’s not posing for a photo, and a slow smile blooms on the kid’s face. It’s so gummy, a couple of teeth cutting through, and Doyoung can’t help but think of himself at age four, eight, twelve, eighteen, gummy smile and braces hidden behind a shy hand despite his usually brash demeanour. Taehwan reaches up with his chubby fist to rest it on the underside of Doyoung’s chin, and Doyoung takes it in his hand, giving it a small wave. Taehwan laughs a bubbling, cheerful, did-Doyoung-make-this-happen laugh, and Taeyong is still cooing at them behind his phone - the type of noise that he usually reserves for dog videos on instagram - and Doyoung looks up to catch his eye and oh.

_Oh_.

  
  


“It’s all about patience,” Johnny says sagely, long fingers wrapped almost comically around the handle of his tiny espresso cup. His other hand is not-so-subtly gripped around Jaehyun’s thigh under the table where they’re sat opposite Doyoung in the cafe they like to frequent. It’s been two days since Taehwan had arrived, Doyoung’s essay long-forgotten since he hit send on the email, and Taeyong had shooed him out of the flat insisting that he celebrate. He had looked tired but pleased in a very Taeyong way. It was baffling.

“And understanding,” Jaehyun continues, nodding.

“You two don’t seem surprised enough that Taeyong is suddenly in charge of an infant,” Doyoung says. And he’s not griping. He’s _not_. He has no reason to.

“It’s just not that surprising, you know? Taeyong and kids. I mean, he _is_ working towards his Masters in education. He’s all about positive influences on the youth of tomorrow and stuff like that,” Johnny says.

Doyoung squints at him. “If he’s such an expert, then why are you trying to get me to pass on your childrearing advice?”

“We’re parents too, you know!”

“The dog doesn’t count!”  
  
“Well, she’s _our_ baby,” Johnny sniffs, and Jaehyun puts a hand on his forearm to console him.

Doyoung ignores the implication of him being a _parent_ in favour of finishing his tea. He’s a co-babysitter at best. The longest he’s been alone with Taehwan is probably the twenty minutes Taeyong spends in the shower - and half the time the baby’s asleep. He’s not like Taeyong, who looks after Taehwan like a natural, who responds to and knows all the baby’s needs without even stopping to think, who falls asleep on the sofa holding him and they look so similar with their wide eyes, lower lips jutting out in identical pouts.

“It’s that look again,” Jaehyun whispers conspiritally. “The one I told you about.”

“There’s no look,” Doyoung snaps, but there’s not heat behind it. He knows there’s a look. He’s known since his first year of college, he’s just never admitted it.

“You mean the I-Love-Taeyong-Hyung-Look?” a bright voice says from Doyoung’s right, and he whips around to see Donghyuck - clad in his candy-striped apron and signature broad grin.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” Doyoung grumbles, glancing towards the counter where Minhyung was trying (and failing) to turn the milk steamer off.

Donghyuck waves his hand nonchalantly. “This _is_ my job,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure your job doesn’t include tormenting customers,” Johnny says, and Doyoung would thank him, were he not belly-laughing at Doyoung’s expense. _I really need new friends,_ Doyoung muses. _Or a new cafe where the waitstaff aren’t demons._

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Well, would you look at the time!” he says, holding up his wrist, which does not have a watch on. “My shift is over! Move up, hyung,” he says, removing his apron haphazardly and sliding in next to Doyoung in his booth.

“Jaemin’s picking me up in like two minutes, so you have until then to tell me what’s going on with you and my favourite cousin.”

“He’s looking after his nephew. _We’re_ looking after his nephew. Well, I’m trying to help,” Doyoung says.

“Aw, baby,” Donghyuck says, already a little disinterested, fiddling with the sugar packets. Doyoung sometimes forgets that Donghyuck has a million younger siblings and is basically desensitised to little children. ‘So, like, you saw him with the kid and realised that you wanted to marry him? That’s a little heteronormative, hyung. Just because someone’s good at looking after a kid, doesn’t mean you’ve got to marry them. Stop conforming to outdated gender norms.”

“ _What_ are you saying.” Doyoung says. It’s not a question.

“Hey,” Jaehyun starts, a little defensively. “People being good with babies is an attractive character trait.”

Johnny nods, expression sage. “Very hot,” he says.

“And who’s saying anything about _marriage_?” Doyoung says.

“Please ignore him, he was dropped on his head as a baby,” Jaemin appears, leaning over Doyoung’s seat - blinding smile, as always, to the rescue. Donghyuck twists around, delighted.

“Now _this_ is a real baby,” he says, throwing them a peace sign as he hops out the booth to loop his arm around Jaemin’s. “A real babe, if you will. Good luck with your dilemma, Doyoung hyung! I know you’re not actually a heterosexual.”

Doyoung stares as Jaemin tugs a giggling Donghyuck out of the cafe, and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Who taught him those words?” Doyoung asks.

“You,” Jaehyun says, at the same time Johnny says “Yuta.”

“I believe Donghyuckie was just thirteen years old,” Johnny begins, a wistful look on his face, before Doyoung slumps down onto the table. “Hyung,” he whines.

“You know,” Johnny says, “I didn’t see you denying Donghyuck’s little… accusation earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Doyoung says, as his stomach churns.

“Oh, stop it, hyung,” Jaehyun says, “We know you didn’t call us here to talk about the baby. _You_ know you didn’t call us here to talk about the baby -”

“I can talk about the baby! He’s a cute baby! _Also_ , maybe I just wanted to see my friends!” Doyoung says, throwing his arms up. “Can’t a person just want to see his friends when he finally finishes The Hell Essay?”

“Didn’t you say Taeyong practically forced you out the door?” Johnny asks.

Doyoung levels his Doyoung Glare at Johnny, who blinks back at him. “To celebrate. And I chose you two. My friends. To celebrate with.”

Jaehyun takes a long, noisy sip of his iced americano. “So celebrating means... talking about Taeyong? And the baby?”

“Okay, this friendship is over!” Doyoung says, snatching up his mug as he struggles out of the booth. Johnny is doubled over on the table, clutching his sides. Doyoung rues the day he introduced them to each other.

“Leaving so soon?” Johnny wheezes.

“Yes. And because I’m the only one here with actual manners - goodbye!” Doyoung says, ignoring Jaehyun’s “you can’t run forever!” and Minhyung’s shout of “hyung, that’s not a to-go cup!” as he stalks out the cafe.

  
  


“Minhyungie just texted to tell me that you stole a mug,” Taeyong says as he opens the door. His expression is delightfully neutral - a patented expression where he finds the situation amusing but refuses to show it. Doyoung slumps against the doorway, holding up the offending item.

“I’ll return it tomorrow,” he says, as he pushes off the wall and into the flat. He bends down to pull off his shoes, but pauses so suddenly he loses his balance.

“Doyoung!” Taeyong says in alarm, arms reaching out to steady him. Doyoung looks up and Taeyong’s face is too close again. He shakes his head of emotional clutter and shrugs Taeyong’s hands off him.

“It’s quiet in here,” Doyoung says after clearing his throat, stepping out of his trainers. “Is everything… okay?”

“Taehwannie’s asleep, if that’s what you’re asking,” Taeyong says, and Doyoung looks at him. _Really_ looks at him. He sees the slight drooping of his eyelids, the purple-blue under his eyes usually hidden by a swipe of concealer. But Doyoung also sees the unfiltered adoration for the kid, the tired-proudness he recognises and remembers in his own parents’ faces when Gongmyung got his first acting job after countless sleepless nights, when Doyoung passed his university entrance tests after his mother had stayed up with him as he revised.

“He’s such a sweet kid,” Taeyong continues, “oh! But don’t worry, noona said it’s going well in Japan, he’ll be gone in… a few days?”

“I’m not -” Doyoung swallows, “I’m not worried, hyung. I like having him here. I’ll miss having him around.”

Under Taeyong’s gaze, Doyoung swallows again.

“You’re really good with him,” Doyoung says, because he’s never been particularly good at shutting up. “You’d be a great dad.”

The pause that follows is positively pregnant, Doyoung thinks, as his pulse hammers against his neck. It could give birth to triplets at any moment.

“You think so?” Taeyong asks, finally, a little breathy. Doyoung doesn’t really know what to do about Taeyong’s eyes on him like that - wide, shining, earnest and beautiful.

This was getting out of hand.

“Sure, hyung, yeah,” Doyoung says, taking a step back. When did the apartment get so hot? So stifling? “You know - I think I forgot my notebook at the cafe, I’m gonna run back and get it. I’ll see you later? Okay, bye!”

Doyoung grabs the mug where he’d placed it next to their bowl of keys by the door, and he barely has his shoes on before he’s out of the apartment, away from Taeyong’s eyes and away from the feelings that seem to burst to the surface every time he looks at them.

  
  


It doesn’t get much better from there.

As much as he wants them to, Doyoung’s feelings don’t subside the more he runs from them. In fact, seeing Taeyong’s disappointed-and-failing-to-hide-it expression when Doyoung comes back to the apartment after missing dinner the next day, smelling like the floor of a shitty college bar, just makes the ache in Doyoung’s chest worse. A new kind of ache, pressing in from all sides.

Doyoung isn’t even sure what he’s running from. He and Taeyong are friends. Years of living together and caring for each other and spending hours listening to each other and worrying about each other might have even pushed them into the category of _best_ friends. But Taeyong has never looked at him with more than familial fondness in his eyes. He turns that same look on Minhyung when he brings them coffee, on Johnny and Jaehyun’s dog, on their elderly neighbour who likes to gift them fresh rice cakes, on _Taehwan_. Doyoung isn’t special in any respect.

It doesn’t matter that since seeing Taeyong with Taehwan that first evening, the feeling of _oh, that’s cute_ had blossomed into thoughts of _what if that were our kid_ and _oh God, how am I supposed to go about my general existence knowing that Lee Taeyong really_ is _a magical child whisperer on top of being the most beautiful being that I have ever known_.

Jaehyun’s words bounce around his skull like an earworm, and he must have some sort of prophetic connection with the Powers that Be, because Doyoung’s plan comes to a screeching halt as Taeyong comes to the horrific realisation that Taehwan hasn’t left the apartment since he arrived, and quickly enlists Doyoung’s assistance in planning an excursion.

“A few days won’t stunt his growth, hyung,” Doyoung says, as Taeyong flits around their living room, checking and double-checking if they’ve forgotten something super essential (like the entire four-pack of pacifiers that Taeyong’s sister had left in Taehwan’s baby bag) for Taehwan’s super important trip to the outside world.

Taeyong levels him with a glare that says _I’m the expert_ , and normally, Doyoung would be eager to argue back, but he finds himself falling silent. Instead, he picks Taehwan up from where he’s babbling to himself on their sofa, and holds him so that they’re face-to-face.

“I’d say you’re getting smarter by the second, Taehwan-ah,” Doyoung says, and Taehwan blows a spit-bubble in response. Doyoung nods, knowing exactly what he means.

“I know exactly what you mean,” he says, shifting Taehwan so that he refocuses on Taeyong’s unamused-but-secretly-amused face. “Your uncle is being dramatic, as usual.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Taeyong pouts, and Taehwan lets out a shout, waving his fist. Taeyong visibly brightens, clapping his hands and skipping towards them, and Doyoung tries very hard to school his expression into something neutral, something unimpressed. He takes a step back.

“The Lee family has a vendetta against me,” he says, faking a sob, hiding his face in Taehwan’s wriggling back.

Taeyong shoulders his magic baby backpack and reaches over to poke Taehwan’s cheek, “I’ve taught you well, little one,” he says.

“Corrupting the youth of tomorrow!” Doyoung says loudly, trailing after a laughing Taeyong as they leave their apartment.

They end up back at the cafe, the park having been deemed too boring by Doyoung and the closest shopping centre too crowded by Taeyong. Doyoung can feel Joohyun’s wary look through the glass of the front windows, and he ducks his head sheepishly in her direction.

She’s never going to forgive him from stealing crockery from her establishment.

(Even if he did return the offending item within the hour.)

“Besides, Yuta has been begging to see Taehwannie,” Taeyong explains as he holds the door open for Doyoung, one hand texting away on his phone. Doyoung grunts in response. The walk from their apartment to the cafe is barely five minutes, but Doyoung _really_ wishes that Taehwan came with one of those baby-carrier-kangaroo-sling-pocket-things.

“He’s not a toy, Doyoung,” Taeyong says, rolling his eyes fondly, as Doyoung relays this out loud. “He doesn’t come with all accessories included.” At Doyoung’s raised eyebrow, Taeyong concedes, “But yeah, it would have been nice if noona didn’t forget the baby carrier at home.”

Sliding into their favourite booth, Doyoung lets Taeyong take Taehwan into his lap, smoothing down the front of his overalls. “Why are you letting Yuta near another one of your infant family members, again? Wasn’t Donghyuck enough?”

“Oh Doyoung,” Taeyong says, still fussing over Taehwan’s clothes, “Donghyuckie is all you.”

In lieu of protesting, Doyoung goes to order their drinks. Taeyong’s sweet tooth is no secret, and Minhyung has two of the cafe’s signature red velvet cupcakes on the counter waiting for Doyoung.

“Your baby’s so cute!” Minhyung says, and Doyoung doesn’t know what expression his face is making, but it makes Minhyung’s mouth drop down from a smile to a perfect ‘o’. He scrambles to correct himself, but Doyoung’s brain is already in overdrive.

“Sorry, hyung! I meant… _the_ baby? It’s a cute baby! _He’s_ a cute baby! Agh!”

“Just take his order, Minhyung,” Yerim says from where she’s helping Jaemin with his English homework at the counter. Minhyung smiles sheepishly at Doyoung, and Doyoung composes himself enough to smile back.

By the time Doyoung has wrangled his order out of his throat and Minhyung has successfully grappled with the coffee machine, Yuta is sitting in their booth. He’s as animated as usual, bringing out the shining, dorky side of Taeyong as they talk. The scrunch of Taeyong’s nose makes something in Doyoung’s stomach tumble as he brings their tray over.

“Hey, Doyoungie,” Yuta says, reaching over the table to ruffle Doyoung’s hair. Doyoung ducks just in time, and scowls at Yuta’s laughter. He’s stolen Doyoung’s seat, too, but Doyoung bites his tongue. Taehwan is staring at Yuta, wider-eyed than usual, hands making grabbing motions at the silky material of his shirt, his glinting row of earrings. Yuta smiles his signature, face-splitting grin, letting Taehwan hold his fingers in his baby-vice-grip. Doyoung and Taeyong share a knowing look over Taehwan’s head. It’s impossible not to be charmed by the kid.

“Careful,” Doyoung says, pointing at Yuta’s ear, “if he gets too close, he’ll yank them right out.”

Taeyong winces, bringing a hand up to his own, earring-free ear. “Babies are very determined,” he nods, serious. “And, like, freakishly strong.”

Taeyong and Yuta dive into a conversation about their respective degrees and Doyoung zones out, one ear on their conversation and one on Taehwan’s little noises. He’s sniffling, but Taeyong isn’t concerned about a cold, so Doyoung isn’t either. His babbling is sporadic, mostly random shrieks at people and animals he sees outside.

Doyoung can’t help but stare at Taeyong’s profile, the tilt of his nose, the shadows that are cast across his face from the lettering on the windows. His hands are wrapped loosely around Taehwan’s chubby wrists, keeping him from grabbing at Taeyong’s cupcake and shoving it into his mouth (a hobby he’s seemed to have picked up in the half hour he’s spent in Yuta’s presence). He’s engrossed in his conversation, but his eyes flit over and they meet Doyoung’s and Doyoung feels his face colour, feels the flush of heat travel under his skin. He attempts a smile, reaching out to tap Taehwan’s fist where it’s held a safe distance away from cream cheese-enhanced food, and the one Taeyong returns to him is blinding.

Doyoung doesn’t even want to look at Yuta’s face right now, already knowing what sort of expression will be painted all over it. His friends aren’t subtle, but unfortunately for Doyoung, neither is he.

  
  


Johnny and Jaehyun’s visit to their apartment marks the seventh day since Taehwan arrived, and the couple are - naturally, Doyoung thinks, proud - enamoured with the kid. Johnny had lifted Taehwan straight up from where he had been snoozing in Doyoung’s lap and now lies sprawling on their carpet as the baby explores the pattern of his jumper, tiny fists clenching and unclenching in the wool. Jaehyun’s heart-eyes are practically overflowing, and Doyoung fights against his instinct to whack the younger on the shoulder, so he focuses on the tiny wobble of Taehwan’s legs as he uses Johnny as support to stand up. He bops up and down to silent music, babbling away, and it’s kind of mesmerising. The cutest form of hypnotherapy Doyoung has ever witnessed. It’s a rare moment where Taeyong isn’t in the room, so Doyoung takes a video of Taehwan’s dancing on his behalf.

“Can you imagine?” Jaehyun says, eyes trained on his boyfriend, “the moment you find out that your baby is _walking_?”

“He’s not walking yet, Jae,” Johnny says from the ground, missing the point, one hand held up to steady Taehwan. “But you’ll get there soon, huh, little man? You’ll be cruising all over the place and wrecking havoc for your parents, won’t you? That’s right!”

Doyoung is so used to baby-talk by this point that he’s not even phased by the high pitch of Johnny’s voice. Instead, he looks over Taehwan’s head down the corridor to where Taeyong’s door is ajar, eyes tracking the moving shadow of Taeyong pacing back and forth. His sister had called about ten minutes earlier, and Doyoung didn’t like the unreadable look that passed across Taeyong’s face as he stood and left the living room.

Doyoung’s brain screams at him to get up and go see if Taeyong’s alright, but his body stays glued to the sofa. Maybe it’s the hypnotic quality of Taehwan’s rhythmic baby dance in his periphery, but he just can’t get his limbs to move.

Or maybe it’s the tiredness Doyoung feels, bone-deep with a longing that sort-of aches, from this strange dance he’s been doing with Taeyong since the beginning of the week. Maybe since the beginning of the year. Since Taeyong stopped being just-his-roommate and -

Well.

Labelling the nagging feeling his heart sends his brain every time Doyoung sees Taeyong (with or without baby, thank you Donghyuck) would be going against Doyoung’s decision to run away from his feelings. In fact, it probably counts as the opposite.

The shadow under Taeyong’s door stops moving, disappears altogether, and Doyoung tears his eyes away. Taehwan is sitting on the floor, face as serious as a baby’s can be, his pale little eyebrows drawn together. Jaehyun helpfully points out how he and Taeyong share that expression, and for the second time that afternoon, Doyoung wants to hit him.

Johnny laughs and runs his hand over Taehwan’s downy head. As if in slow motion, Taehwan’s tiny baby chin wobbles, and the bubble bursts. his chest heaves with sobs, far too loud for such a small being. Johnny expression changes in a second, and he looks up at Doyoung in panic, eyes almost comically wide, hand no longer touching Taehwan. Doyoung leaps to his feet, arms outstretched, but he’s a moment too late.

Like magic, Taehwan is being scooped up into Taeyong’s arms, Taeyong shushing him with a hand held gently against the back of his head, resting him against his shoulder. Doyoung closes his hands into fists, and lets his arms swing awkwardly back down to his sides.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” Johnny stage-whispers, clambering to his feet. He’s still hovering, and Taeyong tilts a small smile at him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Taeyong says, “he’s probably just tired. Aren’t you, little one? Tired from playing with all your new friends? Yeah?”

Taehwan’s wails subside quickly into small hiccups, and he blinks his big eyes at Johnny as he whispers more baby-voiced apologies to him from a safe distance away. Taeyong lifts Taehwan up to sniff at him, and the face he pulls breaks the quiet moment so suddenly that Doyoung has to laugh.

“Maybe Youngho-hyung should be in charge of diaper duty, since he made Taehwannie cry.”

“I didn’t!” Johnny exclaims, indignantly contradicting himself from moments before.

Giggling, Taeyong bounces Taehwan up-and-down a couple of times. “No offence, Johnny, but I don’t think you’re qualified enough to be on diaper duty.”

“What about Doyoung-hyung?” Jaehyun asks from where he’s still sprawled on the other side of the sofa, watching the scene unfold. “Would you say he’s qualified, Taeyong-hyung?”

Doyoung shoots Jaehyun a glare, but just gets a dimpled grin for his troubles. Taeyong’s looking at him, and there it is again, the look that turns Doyoung’s veins to bubbles and his stomach to hummingbirds.

“He’s shown great improvement,” Taeyong hums, as Taehwan sniffles into the collar of his shirt. “Very impressive, I’ll make a master out of him yet.”

“I bet you will,” Jaehyun says. Doyoung does kick him this time.

Taehwan’s sniffles start to increase in volume, growing back into sobs, and Taeyong quickly turns his attention back to the baby. “Sorry, Taehwannie, uncle got distracted. Let’s get you changed, hmm?” Taeyong’s soft murmurs continue as he disappears back down the corridor with Taehwan, and Doyoung lets himself fall back down against the pillows.

“Yeah,” Johnny says after a moment, “you’re pretty screwed, buddy.”

  
  


Asking Taeyong about his sister’s phone call slips from Doyoung’s mind as the weekend passes. He spends more time with Taehwan as Taeyong scrambles to meet deadlines, spends more time coaxing Taeyong out of his room for dinner with promises that yes, Taehwan’s been fed, yes, he’s fine.

Doyoung wants to nag him for leaving things so late, for not delegating enough Taehwan-related tasks to him, for not focusing on himself more. A part of him wants to be frustrated that Taeyong doesn’t seem to want him to be with Taehwan for more than an hour at a time, doesn’t _trust_ him with Taehwan for more than an hour at a time, but one look at the shadow of purple-black under Taeyong’s eyes and Doyoung falls silent.

The rational side of Doyoung’s mind reminds him that Taeyong hasn’t wanted Doyoung to feel burdened by Taehwan’s presence from the beginning. However, rationality doesn’t always win against emotions.

Doyoung’s Monday vocal workshop runs late again, and he passes by Taeyong’s favourite street food stall to grab a bag of traditional rice crackers for Taehwan and an apology dinner and for not being able to help watch the baby in the final hours leading up to Taeyong’s deadline. He’s been sending Taeyong update texts since Taeil started talking about the science of emotion in opera, but since receiving an initial “okay :)”, it’s been quiet on Taeyong’s end.

Any other day, Doyoung would be worried. Taeyong is almost always on his phone, though lately he’s been preoccupied with taking videos of his nephew and sending them to his sister, or agonising over his decision to switch his wallpaper of his family dog with the picture of Yuta took of them wiping frosting from Taehwan’s fingers. But, with a deadline this close, Doyoung doesn’t let himself think too much about Taeyong’s radio silence as taps his foot against the elevator floor, as if that would make it go up faster.

The silence that greets him as he enters the apartment is unusual, but not entirely unexpected. “Hey,” Doyoung calls out into the apartment, “Have you eaten? I brought dinner.”

Silence again.

Doyoung looks around, heart rate picking up. It’s awfully quiet, awfully… empty. Taeyong’s always kept the apartment spotless, but with a baby and deadlines approaching, messiness is an inevitability. Looking around, their front room is pristine, table clear and books stacked neatly at the corner.

Maybe Taehwan’s just sleeping, Doyoung tells himself. Taeyong wouldn’t take him out on his own. Or would he? He was so insistent that Doyoung come with them last time that Doyoung let himself think he was essential to the whole operation.

He shakes his head, dropping the takeaway bag onto their kitchen counter. As Doyoung inches towards Taeyong’s room, he can hear a furious tap-tapping through the door. The door is open, so Doyoung peaks his head through the gap to see Taeyong on his bed, stylus in hand, tapping aggressively at the screen of his Nintendo.

“Oh,” Doyoung says, pushing the door open fully. Taeyong startles, almost dropping the device on his face.

“Doyoung!” Taeyong says, pressing a palm to his chest. “You scared the living crap out of me.”

“Is everything okay, hyung?” Doyoung asks, tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, “where’s Taehwannie?”

“Ah,” Taeyong says, and he looks away. “Noona came by this afternoon to pick him up.”

Doyoung’s chest tightens with a strange emotion. “Oh,” he says, dropping down to sit next to Taeyong on the bed. That explains the quiet, the strange emptiness. Doyoung turns to look at Taeyong.

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?” Doyoung says, and oh, that’s what the emotion is. He’s _hurt_. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

Taeyong’s eyes are glassy as he shifts up to a sitting position. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Doyoung can hear the sincerity. It alleviates the pressure against his sternum a little. His palms tingle a little less.

But still.

He’d grown accustomed to Taehwan being there. To seeing Taeyong with him after classes. Sure, he knew that he’d have to go home eventually, but to not know? To not be able to tell him that he’d see him soon? To see the tired pride that fills Taeyong’s being with every hand wave, every baby conversation?

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong says again, finally, _finally_ turning towards Doyoung. “I’m really sorry, Doyoungie. I didn’t think.” He laughs, and it’s a little self-deprecating in its harshness. Doyoung doesn’t like hearing that sound come out from Taeyong’s mouth.

“I guess I just got so used to having him here,” he continues. “You know I love kids, you _know_ how weak I am for kids, for family.” Taeyong sighs, flopping backwards. “I was upset, and I guess… I guess, I didn’t want you to be upset too.”

Doyoung purses his lips. “I’m kind of upset now,” he says, because it’s the truth. He’s not trying to make Taeyong feel bad, but Doyoung wants to let this sliver of honesty hang between them. At least it’s something. “But it’s okay, hyung. We can always see him again.”

Awkwardly, he pats Taeyong’s thigh as he gets up. “I’ve got dinner in the kitchen,” Doyoung says softly, “come out when you want to eat.”

  
  


It takes a few days before Doyoung settles back into the quiet rhythm of their lives, pre-Taehwan. The pair of them have never been particularly noisy - apart from Taeyong's penchant for loud music in the mornings and Doyoung's habit of yelling at the television - but with their usual stream of friends in and out of the door having come to a halt once Taehwan had arrived, the apartment feels oddly large. Like it’s too big for the two of them.

A lot can change in a week.

Doyoung isn’t hurt, not anymore. Maybe it’s because of the way Taehwan had reached out towards the screen, towards Doyoung, when Taeyong’s sister had facetimed them. Maybe it’s because of the way Taeyong had leaned over his shoulder to make sure both of them were in-frame. Maybe it’s the way Taeyong had not-so-subtly tried to make it up to him, cooking his favourite foods, taking him out for a movie when he had submitted his report.

They walk back to the apartment in the brisk evening air, Taeyong shivering in his too-thin jacket, hands wrapped around Doyoung’s upper arm as he tries to shield himself from the cold. It’s so easy to tease him, tell him that he doesn’t _always_ have to sacrifice functionality for fashion. It’s so easy to laugh at the withering glare Taeyong directs at him. It’s like breathing, being with Taeyong.

But there’s something caught in his throat, something unspoken between them, something that sits under the surface of every interaction they have, threatening to bubble up, to pierce the thin barrier they’ve constructed between talking-about-it and not-talking-about-it.

Doyoung is barely through their front door when Taeyong says, suddenly, “What did you mean?”

He turns around. “When?” Doyoung asks.

Doyoung watches Taeyong’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows. He looks determined, a look that Doyoung always appreciates on Taeyong. “Back when you said I’d be a great dad.”

Doyoung’s cheeks burn at the memory. It seems so long ago, now. “Just, what I said, hyung. It’s not that de-”

“Then why did you run away, after?” Taeyong presses, and he’s standing closer now. He’s always been shorter than Doyoung, even more so when they first met at eighteen and nineteen, but he looks so small now - shoulders a little hunched, wringing his hands.

“I didn’t run away,” Doyoung says, voice just shy of a scoff, but he bites his cheek quickly. He doesn’t want to start an argument, not now, especially one over nothing. Especially one over his own dumb, unreciprocated feelings. “There was nothing to run from.”

“Really?” Taeyong says, eyes so, so wide as his gaze burns into Doyoung’s face and Doyoung loves him, goddamit. Doyoung loves him and he’s a coward and he’s not even a _good_ coward, not with his big mouth, saying all sorts of shit he’s been determined to stamp down into dust.

“So you’re not running from me?” Taeyong says, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip and Doyoung can’t stop staring at it, the mole at the corner, how it juts out just a little in a permanent pout. Doyoung is a dam about to burst. He’s a grenade without a pin. “You’re not running from - from us?” Taeyong’s not looking at his eyes, not anymore. “Doyoungie?”

Doyoung doesn’t know who crosses the space first, who initiates the press of lips against lips. He doesn’t care, hands making their way up the column of Taeyong’s neck to press his thumbs against the edges of his jaw, fingers digging into too-long hair. Taeyong breathes a gasp against Doyoung’s mouth, and Doyoung inhales the sound like a man starving.

Maybe Donghyuck, as presumptuous and teasing as he is, had a point. Maybe seeing Taeyong with Taehwan was the missing piece, the vision in the crystal ball. But Doyoung doesn’t really want to be thinking about Donghyuck at all right now, not with Taeyong’s fists gripping so tightly onto the thin material of Doyoung’s shirt that he’d be worried about it tearing, if he cared about something as trivial as clothing when Taeyong is pressing himself so deliciously against him, noises sweet.

Maybe the reason they hadn’t done this earlier, Doyoung thinks dazedly, was that Taeyong’s kisses have magical properties. Time-stopping, brain-muddling, palm-numbing abilities. Doyoung would never have been able to hold an infant with this kind of effect on him. He wouldn’t have been able to write The Hell Essay with _TaeyongTaeyongTaeyong_ running through his mind like a mantra, ghosts of kisses being pressed against his cheeks, the shell of his ear, the angle where his jaw meets his neck. Taeyong, as usual, as always, was just looking out for him and his one-track-Taeyong-mind.

“Wait,” Taeyong breathes, and Doyoung’s hands fly off his face like he’s been burned. “Come back, no, _Doyoung_ ,” Taeyong says, and there’s an urgency as he moves towards him again, pulling him down to press their foreheads together. “Doyoung,” Taeyong says again and _oh_ , Doyoung could never get tired of hearing his name fall from Taeyong’s lips like a promise.

“Are you sure? About me?” Taeyong says, and for a brief moment Doyoung hates himself, for planting the seed of doubt in Taeyong’s mind.

Doyoung kisses him again, and God, that’s another thing he’ll never get tired of. “Of course I’m sure,” he says, running his lips across Taeyong’s cheek, up to kiss the scar by his eye. He feels Taeyong giggle, and he pulls him tighter into the circle of his arms. “It’s _you_ , Taeyongie.”

“You’re bold,” Taeyong scolds, but he’s grinning, and Doyoung’s grinning too. He’s grinning so hard that he can barely see Taeyong, their kisses more teeth than anything else, and it’s more than Doyoung could have dreamed.

  
  


“You know, you could always tell your noona that we’re free to babysit anytime. Then I’d get to see Taehwan again.”

Taeyong glances over at Doyoung, amusement written all over his face. Doyoung leans into him and kisses the smirk right off his face, just because he can.

“She lives four hours away,” Taeyong says, turning back to the stove. “It would be less of a hassle to just have date night at home.”

Doyoung blows air into Taeyong’s ear just to be annoying, and laughs delightedly at the flinch he gets in response. “Maybe I just want to see you with the baby,” he says, leaning his elbows on their tiny counter to pout up at his boyfriend.

Taeyong finally humours him, setting down his ladle and turning off the hob. Hanging his arms on Doyoung’s shoulders, Taeyong lets Doyoung crowd him against the counter, their slight difference in height magnified in the small space. His smile is radiant as he gazes up at Doyoung. “Yeah?” he asks, teasing.

“Or maybe I just miss Taehwannie,” Doyoung sighs, “he’s so cute. The cutest.”

Taeyong pinches the back of Doyoung’s neck playfully, and drags him down so that they’re eye-to-eye.

“Okay,” Doyoung says, eyes flickering down to where Taeyong’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “I’ll admit it. You’re cuter.”

Taeyong can’t even bring himself to be offended on his nephew’s behalf, and he leans in. Dinner can wait.

After all, they have a whole lifetime ahead of them.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm no baby expert but almost all baby-related behaviours were inspired by binge watching the return of superman and my own quasi-babysitting activities this summer, where i, a university student, was the youngest person at a party apart from a one-year-old who quickly became my best friend. he was so cute. i miss him.
> 
> taehwan's name isn't based on anyone in particular, i just wanted him and taeyong to share the 'tae' ;; and taeyong's older sister is technically an oc but i was imagining her as boa the whole time (furthering my personal taeyong and boa the ultimate sm siblings agenda)
> 
> and finally, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ncigbt) | [cc](https://curiouscat.me/nclgbt)


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